So Much More
by Topsy
Summary: "I'm amazing, when you're beside me / I am so much more" - A Castle/Beckett fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers:** Just general season 4 stuff, with a few references to "Cops & Robbers" in this chapter.

**Author's Notes:** The idea for this fic came from the below song. If you like country… duets… love songs… any of the above… I suggest you go find this on YouTube. NOW.

P.S. Thanks to Jess for beta-ing, for encouraging me even when I didn't believe this was any good.

* * *

_Still I run, run, run, run right into you__  
Yeah, I run, run, run, run right into you  
_

**~ "Run" Matt Nathanson & Sugarland**

* * *

The last drop of bitter coffee slides down Beckett's throat as she heads for the break room. Not for the first time that morning, she wishes her partner were there to make an espresso for her. That evil machine hates her, insists on spewing foam at her, and all she wants is a decent cup of coffee. One that doesn't taste like a monkey peed in battery acid.

She sighs, her fingers tightening on her mug, as she reminds herself that though Castle is her partner, he's not actually a cop. He's an artist, a master of words; a writer. And writers have meetings they have to attend and publishers' asses to kiss.

And after all, if he wasn't a writer, he wouldn't be following her around, pulling her pigtails.

As Kate rounds the corner, she realizes that half of her squad is crammed into the small break room. She frowns, her eyebrows drawing together as she notices they are all staring at the television hanging from the wall. Silence clings to them like a funeral shroud.

She sidles up next to Detective Ryan, gently bumping his shoulder with her own. "Hey. What's going on?" Her voice is a quiet murmur, so as not to disturb their vigil, as she focuses on the screen.

Her colleagues are watching the news; that much she can tell from the reporter standing in front of a building, talking into a handheld microphone as a headline scrolls across the bottom of the screen. The shot is a close-up, but after a moment, it switches to a video of a burning building.

"Someone set off a bomb in a building downtown," Ryan answers her.

Kate's heart stumbles in her chest as she studies the lines of the building; the marble steps, the gilded doorway, the rounded arch above it. The familiarity of it triggers something in her brain, something just out of reach.

Her whole world narrows to the video on the screen, to the thick, ashen smoke pouring from the huge, gaping hole the bomb had left, as she tries to decipher the clues, the pieces that fit together into some puzzle she can't quite figure out. She watches as flames lick at the edge of tumbled stone and firefighters pump gallons of water into the angry, heaving mess of it.

And then she _knows_, she remembers why the lines and shapes of the tattered building are familiar, as suddenly as if the bomb had dropped down on her head.

Her vision goes gray and fuzzy at the corners, like the white noise of an old television set.

_Castle._

Kate grabs Ryan's forearm, sways to the side, her stomach heaving, churning the acidic coffee up into her trachea. Her skin goes numb and then prickles back to life in a blinding flash of heat. She chokes on the sudden lack of air in her lungs.

Ryan turns to her, worry shining in his eyes. "Beckett?"

Panic sears through her, and she can feel her blood draining from her face to her heart, which is thumping in overdrive. Everything goes blurry and all she can see is the twinkle in his blue eyes, his smile.

His name keeps flashing in her mind, skipping like a scratched tape. _Castle. Castle. Castle. Castle._

Ryan squeezes her arm, yanking her out of the black hole she had been falling into. "Beckett!" There is worry etched on his face, his lips are tight with it.

Her eyes meet his. "Castle," she whispers, her voice scratching against her throat like sandpaper.

His eyebrows lift in confusion. "What? What about him?"

"That's the office building for Black Pawn Publishing. That's where Castle is today. He's… he's there."

Fear thrums through her, pounds against her brain.

"Oh God," Ryan says, and turns to find his partner's eyes. Esposito steps forward, frames Kate's body with support.

But she's already turning, running for the bullpen. She grabs her coat, skids into the hall, and slams through the heavy door to the stairwell. She hears the boys yelling behind her, but she doesn't stop, doesn't slow, because she _can't_. All she can think of is _him_.

She has to get to him.

So she runs.

* * *

Kate isn't sure how she manages to make it to 5th Avenue without wrecking the police cruiser. Her eyes are blurry with tears, her chest heaves with a gasping lack of oxygen. Her skin feels prickly, like she took a tumble into a bramble patch, little Jill following Jack down the hill.

Someone keeps switching the channel in her brain, she can't focus, can't think; can only see images of him flashing behind her eyes. His smile. His eyes. His hands. Touching her back gently. Handing her a coffee. Scrawling something on a scrap of paper. Diving into her hair as his lips claim her own. Pressing against the blood-slicked hole in her chest.

Her lungs squeeze tighter. Her scar feels like it's ripping back open, right down the line of her body.

A strangled sob tears through her lips.

A panic attack. She's having a panic attack.

Gone is the calm, cool Detective Beckett, and in her place is an already grieving woman, a terrified, shaking woman who can't stand the thought of losing yet another person she loves.

Loves.

Loves. She loves him.

_God._

Kate's car squeals to the curb; she gets as close to the building as possible. She slams the car into park, flips off the sirens, and throws herself out the door. She runs, leaving the car on, the lights flashing.

It doesn't matter, doesn't matter, because she just needs to find him.

Suddenly a pair of hands reach out and grab her, yank her back. She turns to the source, ready to tear through the bastard with teeth and claws. She snarls, but the hands don't let go.

"Ma'am, you can't go back there."

"I'm a cop." She shoves her badge in the officer's face, but even though he's young, looks fresh, green, he doesn't back down. His determination shines through and she grinds her teeth, clenches her hands into fists so she doesn't deck him.

He reads her badge. "Detective Beckett, I'm sorry, but you're Homicide. Right now, I need you to stay back, to stay out of the way. There's nothing you can do here." His voice his gentle, but firm. She feels panic clawing its way up her throat, like a wild animal cornered.

"My partner's in there!"

"I'm sorry, Detective. You have to stay back."

She comes within inches of breaking his arm, but the call of her name stops her.

It's _him_.

Her heart leaps in her chest, pounds against her sternum as she turns her head to find him.

There. Crawling out of the back of an ambulance.

Alive.

So she runs.

* * *

Castle lets out an "oomph!" when she slams into him, and then throws her arms around his shoulders and neck.

"Castle!" Relief flows through her veins, sings in her blood, and there's a familiarity in that, too. Like he just defused a bomb in the back of a van. Or escaped another bomb within the walls of a bank.

He chuckles and squeezes his arms around her waist. "Kate."

"God! Castle, what is _with_ you and bombs?" She pulls back to look at his face, and then grins like a fool, happiness sparkling through her.

"You're one to talk." He raises an eyebrow and she's reminded of all the times he's saved her life.

Her smile grows bigger, and she tosses her arms around his shoulders again, squeezes. She turns her face into his neck, breathes in the scent of him under the dust and grime of a broken building. Her lips brush against his skin and she feels him shiver.

Her heart trips in her chest.

Kate pulls back, looks at him, taking him all in. His hair is disheveled and his face is dirty. She has this sudden urge to lick her thumb and rub at a particularly dark spot on his cheek.

She tucks her thumb into her palm instead.

She looks down, noticing the bandage on his forearm for the first time, so she reaches out, capturing his wrist gently.

"What happened?" Her voice is softer, low, past the relief and utter thrill of seeing him alive.

She watches a shadow fall into his eyes and it clenches something in her gut.

"Gina and I were walking out of the building to go to lunch. I, uh… They offered us lunch upstairs, but I just needed a break. Needed to get out and get some fresh air. She offered to go with me."

A streak of jealousy shoots through her, but she shoves it down, wishes she didn't recognize it, didn't feel a quick spark of the residual disappointment she'd felt when he'd left for the Hamptons the previous summer.

She pushes the feeling away, strokes her thumb across the bone in his wrist.

"We were about… twenty feet from the building when the bomb went off."

"God, Castle," she whispers, her fingers tightening around him. Her gaze is glued to his face.

"It threw me forward, and I caught myself with my arms and hands. I didn't even have time to cover Gina." He frowns, like he's annoyed with himself, and then holds up his palms for her to see the scrapes there.

"Ouch," she murmurs and lifts his hands to inspect them. She sees a few other bandages on the fingers of his left hand. Kate curls the fingers of one of his hands into a loose fist, and then lifts it up to her cheek, holds it there as her eyes meet his.

She watches him swallow hard as he looks at her.

"Glass and debris rained down on us, and that's how I cut my arm, I think."

She trails her fingers down his wrist, and gently fingers the edge of the bandage. "It could have been so much worse," she whispers so quietly he barely hears her.

"If we were just thirty seconds behind..." He clears his throat. "I'm… I saw them carry some bodies out. I'll probably know some of those people. I just…" He lowers his gaze and shakes his head, as if trying to rid himself of the grief.

"Oh, Castle," she murmurs, and then reaches up to envelope him in another hug. She pushes up onto her tiptoes, cradles him close. "I'm sorry."

He nods against her, buries his face in her hair. "So senseless."

"Rick, I called—" Gina comes around the corner of the ambulance, her right arm in a sling. She stops suddenly when she notices Kate. "Oh. Hello, Detective Beckett."

Kate rocks back, feels her cheeks go warm as she releases Castle. She's a little embarrassed, caught hugging her partner by his ex-wife, but there's a tiny part of her that wants to say "screw it" and latch on to him again and not care who sees. She stuffs her fingers down in her jean pockets instead, trying not to reach out for him.

The adrenaline is wearing off and she has to straighten her spine, force herself not to tremble.

Kate nods to Gina. "Hello."

"You called who?" Castle asks.

"Oh, I was going to say that I called a car service to come get us and take you to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Kate asks and her stomach clenches in fear as her eyes once more sweep over Castle, trying to find something else wrong, something worse than a few cuts and scrapes.

"I just need stitches," Castle murmurs, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her waist. "See?" He holds up his arm and she can see that blood is seeping through the bandage on his forearm. "The paramedics were needed elsewhere. I told him I'd find my own way to the hospital."

She eases back, steps away from his touch, out of the line of fire. "I'll take you."

Castle turns to look at his ex. "Gina, you should come, too. Get your arm checked out."

"I'm fine, it's just a sprain." Her eyes hold sadness, and Kate berates herself for feeling jealous, for being territorial over Castle. "I want to stay here, wait and see who... who we lost. Someone should stay," she finishes on a whisper.

Castle steps forward and wraps Gina in a hug. Kate ignores the tightening in her chest and looks away, unable to watch. But she can still hear him murmur, "All right, but you'll call me? Let me know… Let me know who?"

"Of course. As soon as I know," Gina replies.

"Thank you."

Kate turns back to them, watches as Castle squeezes Gina's hand and then steps away. "Be safe," he says.

"I will."

Castle turns to Kate. "You ready?"

"Yes. Are you?"

He nods, and she lifts her hand in a slight wave to Gina, and then turns, leading the way back to her car. She struggles to suppress the shiver that wants to run down her spine when his hand lands against her lower back.

It seems that Castle needs the comfort of her touch just as much as she needs his.

"Yo, Beckett! Castle!"

Kate turns towards the sound of their names being called, spies Ryan and Esposito headed their way. She stops and waits for them to catch up.

"Glad you're okay," Ryan says, and pulls Castle into a man hug, thumping his back once.

"Yeah." Esposito repeats the gesture, then pulls back to grin at Kate. "Beckett had us seriously freaked out for a minute there, bro. You should've seen her face when she realized it was the building for your publisher. It was like she saw a ghost."

"Shut up," Kate mutters, furrowing her brows. But her lips twitch when she sees the delighted smile that takes over Castle's face at Javier's words.

"I thought she was going to pass out," Ryan says, drawing out the last two words. He grins.

"Guys, c'mon."

"It was kinda cute," Esposito finishes.

Kate punches him in the shoulder, then turns to do the same to Ryan, but he's quick and steps behind Castle. She sticks her tongue out at him.

Ryan laughs. "Real mature, Beckett."

"Oh, like you have room to talk." Kate runs her fingers through her hair, huffs out a breath.

And then they all stop and grin at each other, relieved that their team is still in one piece. Once again they've been saved from a disaster.

"So, what happened here?" Esposito asks, the smiling dropping from his face.

Castle sighs, reaches up to scrub his hand over his jaw. He winces when the scrapes meet stubble. He slides his hand back down to hang by his hip. "I don't know, exactly. I'm not sure what happened, other than someone set off a bomb, and at least a few people are dead. Gina's going to call me later once she gets more details."

"Let us know, okay?" Ryan says.

Castle nods. Kate reaches over and squeezes his arm gently, then turns to the boys.

"I have to take Castle to the ER to get his arm stitched up. Tell Gates that I'm taking the rest of the day."

"You got it."

"If she's got a problem with that, tell her to call me."

"We'll make sure it's not a problem."

* * *

**End Note:** There will be two more chapters after this. I have the next one mostly finished and hope to have the third finished by tomorrow, but we'll see! And tomorrow is "Kill Shot!" OMG! I am so excited.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm amazing when you're beside me  
I am so much more  
And I feel your fingers  
Pound like thunder  
I am so much more  
So much more_

**~ "Run" Matt Nathanson & Sugarland**

* * *

Kate sits next to Castle in the emergency waiting room, their knees and shoulders pressed together. His injuries aren't life-threatening, so despite his fame and fortune, they have to sit and wait with the rest of New York City's sick and injured citizens.

The sounds of ailing whirl around them; a baby is crying, a child is whining, an old man is moaning. The detective in her catalogues the room, takes in the details of the scene, the number of people in the room, the emergency exit, the man in the corner with the shifty eyes and tapping feet.

But the woman in her is focused, her attention pinpointed on one person. She's trying not to look at him, doesn't want him to catch her staring. But she can smell him; his cologne, the sweat of his fear, the dust of the building on his skin. She can feel him; the weight of his shoulder against hers, the hard bone in his knee pressed to hers.

Her fingers twitch on her thigh, rub against her jeans. The fabric feels rough, hard… all wrong. She wants to wrap her fingers in his, feel the softness of his palm, the harder tips of his fingers from typing too much, the rush of blood in his wrist against hers. The way her fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between his.

She swallows hard, fights the urge.

And then suddenly he's reaching for her, his fingers wrapping around hers. It makes her throat tight, knowing that he needs that contact just as much as she does.

She feels like a piece of evidence, knows they'd be able to find his fingerprints on her skin, scarring her, marking her as his.

She can't bring herself to care.

So she leans her head against his shoulder and rests.

* * *

"Have you called Alexis back yet?" Kate asks, even though she knows he hasn't, because she hasn't left his side since she arrived at the bomb site.

Alexis had heard about the bomb during school, and had called Castle just before the doctor came in to stitch him up, but he'd had to cut it short so the doctor could do his work.

Kate checks her mirror, pulls into traffic, and then glances over in time to see Castle checking his watch.

"Not yet. I told her I'd call back after I got my stitches, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to wait until she got out of school, even though I'm sure she's told her teachers what's going on so she can take my call if she needs to."

Kate glances at the dashboard clock. "School's probably letting out now, right?"

He nods. "Yeah." Castle reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and then lets it drop to his thigh.

Kate reaches across, squeezes his thumb. She wishes she could soothe the deep furrow between his eyebrows with her lips. "Nothing from Gina, yet?" she asks softly.

He shakes his head and sighs. "Not yet." He lifts his phone, expertly navigates through the menu until he finds his daughter's number. He presses send and lifts the phone to his ear.

Kate lets go of his thumb and wraps her hand around the steering wheel, instantly missing the warmth of his skin.

"Hey Alexis."

She watches him from the corner of her eye, listening carefully as he eases into the conversation with his daughter. Listens as he reassures her, tells her he's okay, that it's no big deal.

Kate knows he doesn't believe that, knows he's worried about who he's lost that day.

"No, Alexis, it's okay. I'm fine, really. Go to your meetings, and when you get home, we'll order something tasty for dinner, whip up a few bowls of pickles and peanut butter ice cream, and you can see for yourself that I'm fine."

Kate chuckles when she hears the "Ewwww, Dad!" clearly through the phone.

"What?" he asks, gasping. "Don't knock it 'til we try it! It might be excellent. Like the Smorlette! Or the Pancake Pizza!" He pauses, listening. "They were not disgusting! Chocolate and marshmallows are delicious with eggs. And syrup isn't so bad on pepperoni."

Another exasperated, "Dad!" has Kate grinning. Castle glances over, meets her gaze, and she can see that the conversation with his daughter is easing some of the tension in him. That sparkle is back in his eyes and she finds that she is so relieved to see it there. Her lips twitch and she turns back to the road, though most of her attention is still on him.

"Seriously, Alexis. I'm good. Beckett is with me, she's driving me home. She'll take care of me." He wiggles his eyebrows at his partner. "Won't you, Beckett?"

She rolls her eyes, but smirks as she says, "Just call me Nurse Beckett."

"Ooh," Castle murmurs, delighted. "Nurse Beckett is with me, Alexis… she's at my… _beck_ and call."

Kate groans as Castle laughs, proud of himself. She can hear Alexis moaning at him on the phone, and it fills her up, this rapport they've developed, this hesitant and tentative family they're becoming. The only thing missing is Martha's dramatic flair and zest for life.

Kate tries to ignore the little spark of panic she feels at the direction her thoughts have gone. They're not a family… and yet… She feels like they're inviting her in, welcoming her with wide open arms. It's hard to resist, hard denying them when she wants it so badly. She wants to slide right in, fit like the last piece of a puzzle.

Castle's voice pulls her out of her head. "I'll see you later, when you're all done with your meetings." He pauses, and then smiles softly. "I love you, too, baby bird. Bye."

He hangs up the phone, and then turns his body toward Kate's, focusing on her. "She has some club meetings that are supposed to last until about seven."

"Do you think she'll go to them, or come home early?"

"I think she'll go. I think she realizes I'm okay, now that we've talked."

"Now that you've acted like yourself?"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Smorlettes, Castle? Pancake pizza? Pickles on ice cream?" Kate shudders, her lips twisting in a grimace.

"Why does everyone always pick on me when it comes to my food creations? They're delicious!"

"Uh-huh," Kate says dryly, her eyebrows rising in disbelief.

Castle sticks his bottom lip out, pouts dramatically. "They are! If you'd just try them," he grumbles, his voice fading out at the end.

Kate grins and reaches over to pat his hand. "There, there, Castle."

He captures her hand in his, trapping it between his palm and his thigh. "But really, Kate… I think she's going to the meetings because she knows you're with me." His voice lowers, takes a turn into serious. "Will you stay? Until she comes home… until… Until Gina calls?"

Kate flips her hand in his, palm to palm, and squeezes. "I'll stay."

* * *

Kate follows Castle off the elevator, stepping into the hallway outside of his loft, just as his phone rings. Within seconds, he has it in his hand, glancing at the display before quickly lifting the phone to his ear.

"Gina?"

Kate's stomach drops, knowing he's about to hear some horrific news; news that will hurt him, break something inside of him. She hopes she can be enough of a rock for him.

She hesitates, then lifts her hand and places it on his back, between his shoulder blades, establishing a connection, a flow of comfort.

Castle shifts his phone to hold it between his ear and his shoulder as he digs his keys out of his pocket. He slips the key into the lock, murmuring "uh-huhs" to Gina to let her know he is still there.

When the door opens, he transfers the phone back to his ear, never breaking the communication. Kate's hand falls from his back when he steps forward, moving quickly to the couch to sit.

She eases the door shut behind her, and follows him slowly to the couch. She stands, watching him for a moment, watching as the blood drains from his face and he has to lean forward, ease his head down between his knees.

She drops to the couch beside him immediately, wraps her hand around his shoulder, squeezes tight, holding on. She hopes she can transfer some strength to him. Her other hand lands on his thigh, rests there, giving him the option to grab hold if he needs to.

He switches his phone to his other ear quickly, and then grips her hand tightly within his own. He keeps his head down, his eyes closed, and she has this sudden, intense urge to press her lips to the shell of his ear, his hairline, the soft skin behind his ear.

She leans against him instead, curves her body over his, a warm weight against him.

"God dammit," she hears him whisper, and she closes her eyes, wondering who he lost, who he's grieving for. And then, "No. Gina. No," he moans. "Are you sure?"

He stands up abruptly, begins pacing. Kate can see that angry tears are forming in his eyes. "Who did this? Why did this happen?"

He stills, listening intently, and then something akin to a growl rips through his lips. "Are you serious? That's insane! It's fucking ridiculous!" The harshness of his words startles her, and she watches as his chest heaves with emotion. Kate wishes she knew what to do for him, wishes she were better, could be _more_ for him.

And then the fight leaves him, chokes out of him, and he nods, exhausted. "All right. Yes. I'll be fine. Beckett is with me. I… Call me if there's anything I can do, if you find out anything more. Thanks, Gina."

He clicks off the phone, and then tosses it onto the couch. It bounces and lands on the floor. Kate reaches down to pick it up, places it gently on the coffee table in front of her.

She gets to her feet. "Who, Rick?" She moves to stand in front of him. "Who did you lose?" Kate reaches out and runs her hand down his arm, links her fingers with his.

"I…" He reaches up, rubs his forehead. "Five people dead." He shakes his head and she can almost see his grief bubbling below the surface. "I knew two of them." He looks up, meets her gaze.

She squeezes his hand.

"Joey Tallota. He was one of the security guards in the lobby. Only twenty-eight years old. I just… I just talked to him this morning. We joked about his new girlfriend. He… he likes… liked her a lot. Thought maybe she was the one. I teased him about getting married, said he better be sure…" Castle's head drops down, his chin nearly touching his chest. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.

Kate bites her lip, wants to replace his hand with her own, but she doesn't. She waits, knows he needs to get it out, spill the grief at her feet.

"And… God… And Marjorie Lannon. Sixty-three. Mother of three, grandmother of two, with another on the way. She was… she was the main receptionist for Black Pawn Publishing, had been there for over twenty years." He chokes on the words. "I adored her. She always had a smile on her face, always laughed at my jokes. We joked about running away together, but she always told me she couldn't… couldn't leave her husband behind. I met him once, at a book launch party… he's… He'll be devastated. He loved her so much, you could tell, and I…" His voice broke. "Her kids. She talked about them all the time. Told me all about them. She loved them like I love Alexis."

"Oh, Castle," Kate murmurs, pulling him down for a hug. He drops his forehead to her shoulder, wraps his arms around her tightly, squeezes the breath out of her.

She lets him.

"And it's all so senseless, so _stupid_! For nothing." He pulls away, his anger growing again as he begins to pace. "It was just a stupid kid, an idiot twenty-four year old kid who was tired of getting rejection letters from publishing companies. Can you believe that?" he asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "We _all_ get rejection letters, every one of us, when we start out. And he just couldn't hack it, so he decides to set off a bomb. Who _does_ that?"

"Castle—"

But he's not finished, continues ranting, has to get it all out, like it's poison flowing in his blood.

"Gina said he didn't mean to hurt anyone, that the explosion was larger than he expected. He'd only meant to send a message, but instead he killed five people and injured dozens more, including himself. He didn't stand far enough away when he detonated it. They found the detonator on him when they were treating him, and he spilled everything then and there, in the ambulance."

Castle drops down, sits on the edge of the coffee table in exhaustion. He lowers his head into his hands, rubs hard at his eyes. "Joey… and Marjorie… and all those other people. For nothing. For no good reason."

He falls silent, and Kate finds that she has nothing to say, no way to comfort him. And she wishes desperately that she had some of his talent, for words, for the right thing to say. He always knows how to make her feel better and now that it's her turn, she's at a loss.

She drops to her knees in front of him, grasps his arms gently, and tries. "Sometimes people do horrible, awful things because they're sick, because the world has hurt them in some way and they don't know how to deal with it, how to handle it. And sometimes we lose good people that way, lose friends." Kate leans forward, presses her forehead against his. "I'm sorry you lost your friends today, Castle."

He nods, presses his cheek to hers. "Thank you."

"What can I do, Castle? What will help?"

"Just… this. It helps just having you here."

Kate surrounds him with her arms, pulls his head down to her shoulder. He slumps, rests his weight against her, his arms coming around her. His breath hitches, and she rubs his back with her hands, hopes she's giving him some measure of comfort.

After a moment, he pulls back, rubs his face hard with his hands. His eyes are glittering with tears, but he doesn't let them fall.

She reaches up, cups his cheek gently and strokes her thumb under his eye. "It's okay to just let it go, Castle. I won't think less of you."

He shakes his head and pushes up, stands, starts to walk towards the kitchen. She snags his hand, holds him back. "Rick."

"You have to let me go, Kate," he whispers. "Or I'm going to ask for things you're not ready to give."

Her heart skips a beat, but the need and the grief in his eyes push her over the edge of her fear. He needs comfort and she needs to give it, so she slides her palms up his chest, links her fingers behind his neck. Her thumbs brush the soft skin under his ears.

"Kate," he chokes out on a strangled whisper.

"Ask me, Castle." She leans her forehead against his and their noses brush.

"Kate."

She relaxes, sure of herself, and her decision. "Ask me."

"I can't."

"Rick." She can feel his pulse racing under her thumbs. She leans closer, her lips just a whisper from his, and she can feel the moment he gives up, gives in.

His body relaxes for a fraction of a second, and then his lips are crashing against hers, bruising and battering her with his grief and his need. She welcomes it as he asks her with his lips.

Kate arches into him, pushes onto her tiptoes to get closer, strokes her tongue along his, and presses her hips tight against his, answering him.

He groans and it rumbles through his chest and into hers. He steps closer, boxes her in with his legs, his arms, his hands in her hair. His teeth nip at her lips, his tongue battles with her own.

He kisses her thoroughly, wiping every thought out of her head so all she can do is feel.

When his hand slides down to cup her bottom and pull her tighter against him, she moans. The sound snaps him out of his exploration of her mouth, and he stumbles back, his chest heaving and his breath bursting from his lungs in uneven puffs.

She sways toward him, her knees a little weak from the assault on her senses. She's cold, suddenly, aches for his heat, and the solid wall of him to lean against.

"Kate, I'm sorry. I told you, I couldn't—"

"Shhh," she murmurs, and closes her eyes. She presses her fingers against her lips and hums quietly, feeling as if she's been waiting forever for this, to give in and let go. With him. She shivers and then opens her eyes to look at him. He's staring at her, spellbound and guilty, and she wants to wipe it away, any way she can—with her hands, her lips, her words.

She wants him pressed up against her again. The thought doesn't terrify her as much as she thought it would.

Kate steps forward, angles the line of her body against his again. Her arms go around his waist. "I knew what you were asking me, Castle." She brushes her lips across his throat and he shudders. She steps even closer. "I want to give you this. I'm ready."

"Kate."

She nibbles a line from his chin, up his jaw, and to his ear. Her tongue traces the soft lobe of it, and then up to the firm cartilage. He shivers and she grins against him, nudges him gently towards his office. She follows him, pushing him along, guiding him where she wants him.

He chokes out a breath, takes the hint, and bends down, sweeping her up into his arms. She laughs, and then struggles, wiggling in his arms. "Put me down, Castle."

"No way, woman. You showed me where to go—I'm simply following orders."

"You're a cave man."

"Me Castle, you Beckett. We go bed. Now."

She chuckles and decides to exact her revenge another way. She presses her teeth against his neck and decides to see if his knees will hold out all the way to his bedroom.

They make it. Barely.

* * *

**End Note:** One more chapter after this!

P.S. T-minus LESS THAN AN HOUR until "Kill Shot." I'm so excited!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is just shy of being rated M. So if you don't like that, maybe just skim or skip this. I promise it's not too outrageous, but this is your fair warning. :)

Sorry it took me so long to get the third chapter up, but with the Thanksgiving holidays and such, I had a lot going on.

* * *

_You pull me in close__  
You buckle my knees__  
I shake and I shiver just to feel you breathe__  
You trace my lines  
__(I trace your lines)__  
Stirring my soul__  
Shoot sparks at the heart of the world and I watch it explode_

_(I watch you, I watch you)__  
You're turn, turn, turn, turning me on__  
Like a slow fire burn __  
Know that it's wrong__  
Still I run, run, run, run right into you_

**~ "Run" Matt Nathanson & Sugarland**

* * *

In the dark and quiet space of his bedroom, her feet touch the floor once again, but he doesn't let her move far. His hands trace the lines of her body, up her sides, over her ribs, back down her arms.

She shivers, feels the tiny hairs on her arms stand up, and she presses her nose into the soft place under his jaw, nuzzling there. Her heart pounds, thrums in her chest like the strings of a guitar.

She wants this, wants him, wants _them_. The walls are crumbling around her. She's afraid, but thinks she'll be okay, that it will all be okay, because he'll catch her.

She pushes up onto her tiptoes, wraps her arms around his neck, and tips her head back when she feels his lips on her skin. He burns a line of fire down the vein in her neck, nips at her collarbone. Her hips tilt into his.

He hums, turning his attention to her face. He brushes kisses everywhere; the side of her nose, her cheekbones, the slightly bruised spaces under her eyes, the mole on her cheek. He's everywhere but where she wants him.

She angles her head, searches for his lips. He teases her, kisses the corners of her mouth and then moves away, tracing her jaw line with his tongue.

She mewls her disappointment, embarrasses herself with the sound, but he groans, grips her hips and rocks himself into her. She sighs, melting against him.

"I want—" She stops, shy and unsure of herself. This is her partner, it's Castle, and even though he's everything she's wanted for as long as she can remember, she's not sure how to act with him like this.

"What do you want, Kate?" His words whisper across her ear lobe, deep and gruff; they give her the courage to voice her needs.

She shivers again, and her arms tighten around him. "I want… everything."

He growls, and then sweeps her up into his arms again. He turns and dumps her onto the bed, making her laugh.

"You're being a caveman again."

"Castle want Beckett. Beckett yummy." He pounces on her, dives into her neck with lips and teeth, tickling her with his five o'clock shadow. She squirms, arches away from him, until he softens his movements, and finally, finally meets her lips. Right where she wants him.

He surrounds her, boxes her in with his limbs and lips. His scent is everywhere around her; on his skin, in his hair, on his sheets. She floats in it, finds herself adrift in a delicious sea of Castle.

Everything. She wants everything.

The rest of the world melts away. Everything is him and all she can do is feel.

They roll, and her hair surrounds them, curtains them in a darker, quieter place that only they share. His lips bruise her, his fingers scar her. She burns with it, with her need, arching against him. It swallows her whole, engulfs her in its flame.

Her shirt disappears over the edge of the bed, and then she feels his fingertips mapping her skin, reading her scar like Braille. The light coming in the windows behind the bed is muted, dimmed by the closed shades and drawn curtains, but she can still see his face, can see the fear and sorrow and grief all woven in the lines of his skin. He chokes on it, the memories and the terror, and when he rears up, replaces his fingers with lips, she lets him. She cradles the back of his head and feels her eyes well up with tears at the gentleness in his caress.

She gives him a moment, gives herself the moment, and then rolls again, pulling him with her. No more grief, no more despair. She wants this to be about them. No bombs, no death, just them, just _this_.

She finds his lips again, takes them, while her fingers slide under his shirt. She fits her fingers in the spaces between his ribs, and trails her mouth to his ear. He shudders, presses down as she arches up.

She gasps, rocks against him. "Castle."

"Everything, Kate."

* * *

Castle rolls, gasping, and flops onto his back beside her on the bed. She gulps in deep breaths of air, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. She lifts a hand to her chest, presses against the pounding of her heart.

"Wow," Castle grunts, and she manages a short chuckle, tosses her other arm up and over her eyes. "We are _really_ good at that."

"Mmmm," she agrees.

"I mean, _really good_, Kate. We should have done that a _long_ time ago."

She snorts once, letting out a quick laugh. He props himself up on his elbow, runs a finger along her sternum and down to dip into her belly button. She jerks, reaches for his hand, presses it flat against her abdomen.

Her skin is tingling; his touch is torture.

His lips twitch, amused, and with her eyes still covered, he leans down and gently touches the tip of his tongue to her nipple.

She jerks harder this time, her arm flying out to push him back, her forearm against his chest. "Castle!" she gasps.

He chuckles, humored and aroused by her. "Sensitive?"

"Yes, now stop!"

"Mmm, but I don't wanna," he whines, but he scoots back, gives her some space.

Feeling the loss of his heat, she drops her arm and looks at him, watches as a shutter comes down over his eyes. He smiles, tries to mask it, but she can see the fear residing there. The worry that she'll hide from this, run away from it.

She can't blame him; she does have that particular bad habit.

So she rolls into him, slips her thigh up over his, wraps an arm around his side to palm his back. Her fingernails scratch gently, and he closes his eyes, hums against her, and relaxes.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs quietly, but her heart is pounding, and fear tickles the back of her throat.

His eyes fly open and he looks at her. "Okay," he says and swallows hard.

"I'm done running." She smiles, hopes it doesn't waver. "Except, you know, when I run and jump into your arms again after the next bomb scare."

He shudders dramatically, plays it off, but she can see the stark relief in his eyes, his amazement at her staying. Her belly clutches. "Let's hope there's not a next time. I am so tired of bombs," he says.

Kate presses her lips against his jaw, tries to settle herself, and squeezes him once. "Me too."

He wraps his arms around her, tightens his hold. "Kate?"

She nuzzles him, knows he can't let this go. "Hmm?"

"Why now?" She leans her head back on the pillow, looks at him. "There's still your mother's case… what about the wall you built inside?"

"I'm afraid."

"What?" he asks, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. She soothes him with her fingers along his spine.

"At first I was afraid that you didn't understand, didn't catch my meaning that day when we were on the swings. I was afraid you wouldn't wait for me." The fear of that had been tangible, something she could hold in her hands, slip-sliding through her fingers.

"Kate—"

She presses her fingertips to his lips to silence him and continues. "But then, you kept… kept staying with me. You didn't go out with Serena Kaye."

"I thought you wanted me to." Castle tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I didn't want to. She was beautiful, interesting… but she doesn't hold a candle to you." His finger trails down her cheek.

She ducks her head, slightly embarrassed, and incredibly relieved. "After that, I wasn't as worried. I figured—hoped, really—that you knew I was talking about you on the swings."

"I did. Or I thought so," he murmurs, lifts her face back up to his with a knuckle under her chin. "Hoped so."

She nods, slides her hand over his shoulder blade. "But then I was afraid we would never get our chance." She licks her suddenly dry lips. Her stomach turns, nerves slip and slide in her gut, churned up from the memories of the bank and the latest bomb. "I watched you die right in front of my eyes. Twice. And that's just in the last _month_, Castle."

He slides his hand into her hair, scratches her scalp lightly. "I'm okay."

"This time," she whispers. "Next time you might not be so lucky. Or maybe next time it will be me. Another bomb, another bullet."

"I need to write that down. It's a good title for a book." He tries smiling at her, but she doesn't smile back. So he squeezes her hard, brings her closer.

She holds on just as tightly, needs to feel him there, with her.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this. I don't know if I'll be any good at this. I can't make you any promises, and I'll probably screw everything up. But I can't watch you die again, can't feel that complete and total fear, and know that I never took the chance."

"I won't let you screw this up."

"Castle."

"I want this too much, want _you _too much, to let you screw this up."

She frowns. "You can't promise that. I'm… I'm not good at this, not good at being a half of a whole. I'm… damaged goods, Castle."

"Don't say that," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her shoulder. "You're extraordinary. You're everything I've ever wanted."

"You deserve better." She feels sick, suddenly sure that she'll do something to ruin this. Something to ruin _him._

He squeezes her tight. "Hey. You definitely don't get to say that. You're strong, and courageous, and beautiful, and more than _any_ man deserves."

A lump forms in her throat; she struggles against tears. She buries her face against his neck, swallows the thickness down, and listens.

"I know you have your baggage, Kate, but so do I. And we'll work on that together. We _can_ do this. I believe in us. And even though I can't promise that everything _will _work out, I can promise that I will do everything in my power to make it work. And so will you."

Her heart tightens in her chest, threatens to pound right out through her ribcage. She knows he's wrong, knows she doesn't deserve this sweet, sweet man, but his faith in her, in them, makes her want to believe.

"I _know_ you, Beckett." She feels him grin against her hair. "So I'll figure out how to manipulate you into making this work."

She shakes her head, grins against his chest, and then lifts her eyes to his. "Caveman Castle is making quite the appearance today."

He smiles, pushes her hair back to kiss her ear. "I'm glad you took the chance. I'm glad you... you're here. I don't want to be alone today." His voice is sad, serious again.

She tightens her legs and arms around him, tries to squeeze the despair out of him. "I'm glad I'm here, too." She slides her palm to his bottom, cups it, tries to distract him from the horror of the day, distract herself from her fear and worry.

"Why Detective, I do believe you are trying to seduce me… again."

She smiles. "You might be right." She pushes him back, slides on top of him. "Tell me, partner… Can you handle another round?" Her fingers creep down, cup him.

He swallows hard, stares up at her. His fingers tangle in the ends of her hair, and then he smiles. "I think I can manage."

* * *

The End.


End file.
